Where Were You
by zilly-pill
Summary: Sequel to The Things that Happen. Kyra's doing just fine on her own, when Riddick comes barging back into her life. Newly revised.
1. Night Clubbing

_Author's Note: While I considered sitting on this chapter for a few days before posting it, after reading your reviews I realized that that would just be cruel. So here it is... Now, I have to state that things are a bit misleading in this chapter. There is more going on than there appears to be. Thank you to all of you that reviewed "The Things that Happen", it really helped me get myself together to finish the story. For those of you that haven't read it - go read it!! It will explain much. Now, on with the chapter. Please excuse any errors, no matter what type. And, as always, read, review, and enjoy._

_Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it._

-

"Kid!"

Kyra started at the shout, hitting her head on the underside of the car she was working on. She had been working with these same guys for almost a year and a half now, and all of them still insisted on calling her "kid". _Some things never change._ Sighing, she rolled out from under the vehicle and sat up.

"Fuck," she muttered, absently rubbing at the sore spot on her head. "What?" she called back, looking around for her boss, Cap. Resting her other arm on her upraised knee, she turned toward the office, a wrench dangling from her dirty fingers.

Cap was leaning in the office doorway, his stained grey coveralls half open and tied around his waist. Tall and well built, he'd tried many times to get the shop's only female mechanic to go out with him. Each time, she'd turned him down flat. Now, as he lit up a cigarette, he grinned. "Jag owner's here," he said, pitching his voice over the blaring of the shop radio. "Wants to know how much longer you'll be." Kyra opened her mouth to reply, but he cut her off. "Wants to talk to you _personally_," he said. Kyra growled and glared at him. She hated dealing with customers.

Pushing herself up, she pulled a rag out of her back pocket and wiped her hands. She replaced the scrap of cloth and shrugged back into the top half of her coveralls. Tucking her wrench into her hip pocket, she headed for the office. "You know, Cap, you can be a real dick sometimes," she muttered, as she brushed past him.

After talking to Mr. Jag Owner, Kyra unzipped the top half of her stained work outfit, tying the arms low around her hips. Then she sat on a stool just outside the open door of the garage and lit a cigarette. Making sure that she was under the roof's overhang, she blew a stream of smoke out into the dripping rain. She closed her eyes and allowed her body to rest back against the side of the building. Taking a deep breath, she felt some of the tension flow out of her muscles.

"You gonna leave on time today?" A voice spoke from behind her, and she opened one eye to look its owner. It was Spence – a gangly teenager, just out of high school. He reminded Kyra of herself, when she was younger…when Riddick was still around… Shaking her head, she smiled and handed him her cigarette; Spence took a drag then gave it back.

"Hoping to," she replied. "I just need to finish the tune up on the Jag, then I'm done." Spence nodded and leaned nonchalantly against the garage doorframe. Kyra knew he had a slight crush on her, and she didn't mind. She hadn't dated much in the two years since Riddick left – it had just never really occurred to her, nor did she see the point in trying to build a lasting relationship when she might have to leave at any time. Right now, though, she didn't see any harm in letting the kid's infatuation run its course. "What about you?" she asked, blowing smoke rings toward the eaves.

"I got a couple oil changes – a VW and a Beemer." Kyra nodded and looked back out into the rain.

"Well," she said after a few moments, crushing her cigarette out on the heel of her shoe, "better get finished up so we can leave, huh?" Spence sighed and started back into the garage; Kyra watched the rain for a moment longer before she started to follow him. She was just about to head back to the car she'd been working on when a quick chill ran down her spine. Glancing over her shoulder, she frowned. The sun had set about an hour ago, but she could just make out something hiding in the shadows. She shook her head, blinked, and it was gone. _Just my imagination_, she thought._ Nothing there_.

-

That night, Kyra showered right after work, tossing her greasy coveralls into a separate hamper to avoid staining her everyday clothes. After she was clean, she pulled on a pair of jeans and a tank top, then stood in front of the bathroom mirror. She was going out tonight, and she wanted to look good. After twenty minutes of struggling to tame her unruly curls, she growled and blew an offensive strand off her forehead. "Fine, I'll just leave it down," she muttered to no one in particular. A quick touch of make up, and she was out the door, headed to Merlow's club district.

Walking into the Shooting Star was always a good feeling. Kyra headed straight for the dance floor, needing to get rid of a little excess energy before she started drinking. She was already lost in the hypnotic beat when she felt a strange hand brush her hip. Her eyes opened, staring blankly into the strobe-lit darkness, trying to see. That hadn't been an accidental touch…_that had been on purpose_. Slowly, still swaying her hips to the music, she turned and scanned the crowd. She was desperately looking for someone – _anyone_ – that could have traced that strangely familiar caress across her skin.

Two silver lights winked back at her.

Kyra gasped. "Riddick."

Then the eyes were gone. Instead, she felt a large body behind hers, moving in time with the music.

"Where the hell can I get eyes like that?"

His voice was pitched low, so she didn't so much as hear it over the music as feel it vibrating through his chest. _God, how she'd missed that feeling._

"Gotta kill a few people," Kyra whispered automatically. She swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry.

Riddick placed his hands possessively on Kyra's hips and spun her around to face him. He bent his head so that his breath tickled her ear. "What d'ya say we get outta here?" he asked. Instead of answering, she rose up on her toes and lightly scraped her teeth across the sensitive skin between Riddick's neck and shoulder. He growled at her, grinding his hips against hers one last time. Then he turned and wove his way out of the crowd of writhing bodies on the dance floor.

Working their way out of the club wasn't difficult. Riddick only had to check once to make sure that Kyra was still with him. Once he was out in Merlow's cool night air, he paused and she almost ran into him. The feeling of her body heat on his back was getting to him – reminding him of how long it had been since he'd seen her.

Suddenly, he reached behind him and grabbed Kyra's wrist. Yanking her into the nearest alleyway, he shoved her roughly against the brick wall and fastened his lips on hers. Her soft cry of surprise quickly turned into a moan of pleasure; Riddick growled in response. It had been too long since he'd tasted her like this – all hard and fast and needy…

He had her pinned against the wall, her toes barely touching the dirty pavement; he was kissing her so hard she wondered if enough oxygen was getting to her system. Giving in to impulse, she surrendered to the kiss – her body pushing closer to his, trying to absorb some of the warmth she'd been too long without. _Would she ever get enough of this man?_

Feeling Kyra relaxing against him, Riddick's hands stroked lightly at the soft skin exposed by her low jeans and tight shirt. His fingers traced up, under her top, and a rough palm cupped her breast. She broke the kiss then, her eyes closed and chest heaving as she tried to breathe. She arched into his hand, letting her head fall back against the brick wall with a soft thump. Her strangled moan sounded something like, "Oh, God, Riddick…"

The sound of Kyra's breathy voice brought him to his senses. _Jesus. I leave for two years, and the first time I see her, I fuck her against some dirty alley wall?_ No. He wouldn't do this. Pulling away, he braced his hands on the brick behind Kyra. "We can't," he rumbled, fighting for control. She looked up at him, green eyes clouded with lust.

"What?" she started. But something in Riddick's face must have gotten through to her. Her expression changed and she nodded before ducking under his arm. "The apartment?" she asked, adjusting her clothes. Riddick nodded, thanking whatever God there might be for this woman that understood him so well.

They made it back to the old apartment – but just barely. Before Kyra could even get the key in the lock, Riddick's hands were under her shirt, stroking her sensitive skin as his mouth fastened on her neck. She let out a low moan of longing just as the doorknob turned in her hand.

Never breaking away from one another, they moved into the apartment's small front hall. Riddick kicked the door shut behind them, then turned to shove Kyra against the heavy wood panel. He pressed his body against hers, vaguely aware of her fingers fumbling behind her for the lock. Both know that this was as far as they would probably get, before passion overcame them. _At least it's not an alley wall_, Riddick thought dazedly.

Kyra felt him lifting her off the floor as his mouth came down to cover hers. Giving in to the kiss, she brought her legs up and wrapped them around his lean waist. She moaned softly when her aching center came into startling contact with the hardness straining against the fabric of his pants. It had been so long…not just since she'd been with Riddick, but since she'd been with any man…

Tearing her mouth away from his, Kyra let her head fall back against the door. _He still did it to her; even after two years apart – after leaving the way he did – he still took her breath away._

Riddick took advantage of the newly exposed skin, tracing a path down her slender neck with his tongue. She tasted better than he remembered – sweeter…sexier…

Finally, he couldn't control himself any longer. Letting Kyra's legs fall from his waist, he pushed her jeans down over her hips and off her body. He hitched her up again, forcing her hard against the door as he ripped open the fastenings on his own pants. He heard the distant sound of a button hitting the floor, but didn't care. Bringing her legs back up to wrap around him, Riddick let his fingers trace down to her most secret place. Instead of finding some lacy, frivolous creation pretending to be underwear, his hand met warm flesh.

"Expecting me?" he growled. Kyra moaned at the contact, pressing against his callused palm.

"Please," she gasped. "Please, Riddick. Now." She was writhing against him, the moist heat of her driving him crazy. Groaning, he captured her lips with his, thrusting his tongue into her mouth as he drove into her body.

The sex was hard and fast, and when they finally found their release their bodies were covered in sweat. Riddick was breathing hard, relishing the tiny tremors running through Kyra's muscles. He could feel his own body shaking as exhaustion threatened to make him collapse.

Taking a deep breath, he raised his head. "You okay if we move, kid?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

"Mm-hmm." He smiled at her closed eyes and the relaxed feeling of her muscles. Carefully untangling himself from her limbs and their half-discarded clothes, he swung her limp body up into his arms. Then he easily made his way down the hall to the bedroom.

Laying Kyra's slender form on the perfectly made bed – _kid always was kind of a neat freak_ – Riddick stripped off the rest of his clothing and slid them both under the covers. She grinned drowsily at him, looking almost sexier than Riddick could take. He wanted her again – now. But when he glanced down at her, she was asleep, with that sated smile still clinging to her lips.

He hadn't meant for things to happen this way. He'd seen her working in the repair shop earlier, then he'd caught sight of her at the Shooting Star... He almost hadn't recognized her at the club, though; that shocked him. In the sea of bodies on the dance floor, he hadn't been able to pick her out right away. _It was the make-up_, he decided. And her hair had been down, flowing over her shoulders, instead of twisted up and out of her way.

Looking down at her, wrapped in his arms, Riddick wondered how he had ever left her. He'd come back for her twice now; he couldn't help it. He just had to see her, talk to her…to know she was okay.

He sighed and pulled Kyra closer to him. Inhaling her familiar scent, he closed his eyes and fell into a light doze.


	2. Rules

_Author's Note: Thanks so much to all of you that reviewed the first chapter! This chapter should explain a few things, but it's going to be a bit of a slow build for a while. I hope this installment is up to expectations – it was actually kind of hard to write (I got distracted with a Lit paper, among other things…). So, please excuse the awkwardness and any errors, no matter the kind. And, as always, read, review, and enjoy._

_P.S. To those of you that got the Fray's song stuck in your head after reading the first chapter, I can commiserate. I've been living with it playing continually until I'm pretty sure my brain will explode. _

_Disclaimer: Wish I owned it…then college would be paid for…_

-

Kyra's alarm woke her the next morning. Groaning, she rolled over and reached out to find something – _someone_ – in the bed next to her. That someone was resting right behind her, with an arm thrown possessively over her hip. Who…? Then she remembered – last night at the Shooting Star. _Riddick_.

Taking a deep breath, Kyra carefully disentangled herself from his arms. She reached over Riddick's broad chest and turned off the alarm, sliding slowly out of bed. Cautiously, she made her way to the bathroom and kicked the door closed behind her. She turned on the shower, then stared at herself in the mirror for as the water warmed up. Brilliant green eyes in a pale face stared back at her.

_My God._ _What have I done?_

She'd spent the past two years planning exactly what she would do if he ever dared darken her door again – and falling right into bed with him had _not_ been a part of any of those plans. Yelling at him, ignoring him, kicking his ass – yes; any or all of those things. But almost letting him take her against an alley wall? _Definitely_ not. She rubbed a hand over her face and groaned. What was she going to do now? Taking out her contacts, she started to turn the problem over in her head, looking for an answer. By the time she stepped under the hot spray, Kyra had the beginnings of a plan.

Riddick heard the kid getting into the shower and rolled onto his back, folding his hands behind his head. He'd woken at the soft sound of Kyra's clock radio, but he'd kept his breathing slow and even as the kid reached over him to turn off the alarm. She wasn't as sharp as she used to be, so as long as he didn't move she wouldn't know he was awake.

Now, as her soft singing drifted to him from the bathroom, he stared at the ceiling and thought. He knew the kid hadn't meant for any of last night's…activities…to happen. Technically, neither had he – at least not like that. Idly, he wondered when she would get around to tearing him a new one; he was sure she would, sooner or later. Lost in his thoughts, Riddick suddenly heard the water shut off. Glancing toward the bedroom door, he saw the kid standing there, wrapped in a towel; her silvered eyes glinted in the dark.

"When did you get the contacts?" he asked, suddenly. He hadn't noticed last night, but he realized that was probably one of the reasons he hadn't recognized her; a pair of colored contact lenses and she'd look just like any other girl – _yeah right, like she could look like just any other girl…_

"Good morning to you, too," the kid replied. "Didn't mean to wake you," she added, crossing the room to the dresser and opening a drawer. Riddick watched as she pulled out some clothes, then looked away as she started tugging them on.

Kyra donned her coveralls first, belting them low on her hips. She let the upper half hang around her legs as she pulled a snug black tank top over her head. Shrugging into the top part of the coveralls, she left them unzipped and headed out of the bedroom. Still silently berating herself, Kyra grabbed the day's paper from the mail slot in the front door, then she went into the kitchen. Flipping on the light as she crossed the room, she poured herself a cup of coffee and put some bread in the toaster. As she opened the paper she glanced at the kitchen clock and made a mental note of how much time she had before her shift started. Then she took a sip of her coffee and scanned the headlines, waiting for her toast

Riddick wandered into the kitchen a little later to find Kyra sitting at the table. She had the paper spread out in front of her as she finished her toast. She glanced up as he opened a cabinet, searching for the cups.

"Still in the same place," she said, looking back down at the article she was reading. "Cabinet right next to the cooling unit, bottom shelf." Riddick opened the cabinet she mentioned and grabbed a mug. Pouring himself a cup of coffee, he turned around and leaned back against the counter before taking his first sip. The kid glanced up at the clock again and sighed.

Closing the paper, Kyra popped the last bite of toast in her mouth and washed it down with the rest of her second cup of coffee. She left the paper on the table as she rose and crossed to put her dishes in the sink. On her way out of the kitchen, she absently turned off the light. When she realized what she'd done, she paused and reached behind her before remembering that Riddick didn't need it. Shrugging, she ducked into the bathroom to finish getting ready for work.

When the kid came back into the kitchen, Riddick could tell she had her contacts back in. He frowned; he didn't like not being able to see the wash of silver over her green eyes. Wondering how he had missed the difference last night, he started when she spoke.

"I'll be back sometime tonight – probably around seven or so. Your old set of keys is in the back of the freezer, if you need them. If you go out at all, be sure to lock up." She grabbed her keys out of a little bowl in the center of the kitchen table. Then, after tying her shoes and shrugging into a light jacket, she was gone.

_Well. This was proving very interesting._

After Riddick finished his coffee and showered, he took a while to just look around the apartment. The kid was doing relatively well for herself, that much was easy to see. There were a few more pieces of furniture scattered throughout the small rooms – an end table and television stand in the living room, a night table in the bedroom, a small china cabinet in the kitchen. She'd also hung some pictures on the walls – mostly framed art prints, nothing that she would mind losing if she had to pick up and leave in a hurry. In the bathroom, he saw the organized chaos of make-up, toiletries, and contact supplies scattered across the counter. Breathing deeply, he inhaled the distinctly feminine scent that seemed to cling to everything, and smiled. That was something else he'd missed over the past two years – that apple smell that seemed to follow Kyra everywhere.

When he'd finished looking around, Riddick realized that Kyra hadn't kept any of the things he'd left behind. _Or if she did, she's hidden them well_. Sighing, he grabbed his keys out of the freezer – exactly where the kid said they'd be – and left the apartment.

-

Kyra was on edge all day, tensing at every little sound. It was like her senses were working in overdrive, and a few times she just barely caught herself before she hurt one of the guys in the shop. Now that Riddick was back, she had a whole list of things to worry about. The bounty for her had dropped off over the years, but mercs still tailed Riddick like sunrise followed sunset.

Around seven, she glanced at the clock and sighed – she'd managed to make it almost the whole day without losing her control. Turning back to her work, she bent over the engine of an old Ford, double-checking her repairs. She was tightening a screw, a screwdriver in her right hand, a wrench in her left, when she heard someone moving behind her. Her hands tightened almost imperceptibly on her tools as she paused, listening.

At the sound of a work-hardened hand scraping against fabric, she didn't hesitate. Whirling around, Kyra had her screwdriver at her would-be attacker's throat and was about to bring the wrench down on his temple before she registered who it was. Cap stared at her, eyes wide with surprise. She could smell the shock and fear radiating off him. Slowly, she dropped her hands to her sides, still clutching the tools in a white-knuckled grip.

"What the fuck, kid?" Cap growled, once he was sure she wasn't going to open his throat with her flat blade.

"Guess I'm a little jumpy today," she muttered, lamely. Turning around, she bent back to the engine to hide her embarrassment.

"Yeah, well you can just take your jumpy ass home," he grumbled. Kyra kept her head bent to her work, listening as he moved away. She sighed; she wasn't about to argue, especially after almost bashing his skull in with a wrench. Quickly, she did a final check on the Ford and closed the hood. Putting her tools away, she clocked out and headed home.

The walk to her apartment seemed to take longer than usual, but when she reached her building, Kyra couldn't seem to bring herself to go in. She stood outside, smoking, until she felt a familiar presence next to her.

"Those things are gonna kill you, kid."

Kyra ignored Riddick and tossed her cigarette on the ground, crushing it out with her shoe. Brushing past him, she headed straight for the staircase. Someone had fixed the elevator a few months ago, but she never bothered using it – she didn't trust it. Instead, she took the stairs; at least she knew she'd get to her apartment. At the top of the fourth flight, she unlocked the door and stalked inside.

Riddick followed close behind Kyra, making sure to close and lock the door. Turning around, he saw her toss her keys into the small bowl on the kitchen table before she disappeared into the bathroom. When she emerged again, he caught a glint of silver as she glanced down the hall and realized that she'd taken her contacts out.

Kyra crossed into their – _her­_ – bedroom to change out of her work clothes. She didn't say anything as she felt Riddick come to stand in the doorway.

"You never told me when you got the contacts." His voice washed over her in that old familiar way, and she had to grit her teeth to keep from throwing herself into his arms.

"They came in a few days after you left," she said, tossing her coveralls into the hamper. As she pulled on a clean pair of pants, she hesitated. "I sent yours back," she added, glancing toward him. What she didn't tell him was that the day she'd opened that package, she'd held that stupid box of disposable contacts in her hands and wept for hours…

_Kyra tossed the box on the kitchen table, pulling a knife out of the waistband of her pants to open it. She cut the tape and dug through the packing material, smiling sadly when she pulled out the box of green colored contacts. She'd gotten fired from her waitress position a few days ago – her shine was making the customers nervous. But the contacts would cover it. Hopefully, it would help her get a job soon._

_Reaching into the packing material again, she came up with another small contact box. Brown ones, this time. Kyra collapsed into a chair, staring blankly at the label on the box's side. She'd been doing so well; she thought she could handle this…_Guess not_. A sob tore from her throat as she clutched the contacts to her chest._

_Later – much later – Kyra took a deep breath. Uncurling herself from the chair, she wiped viciously at the tears drying on her cheeks. Slowly, she shuffled back to their bedroom – her bedroom now – and lay down, still gripping the small contact box. Inhaling the scent of Riddick that still seemed to cling to everything in the apartment, Kyra fell into a restless sleep._

After that, she refused to shed another tear in his name. She'd sent the contacts back, and put him out of her mind – _until he showed up at the club_.

Shaking her head, Kyra finished dressing and pushed past him. Riddick followed her down the hall and into the kitchen, allowing his eyes to watch the sexy sway of her hips as she moved. He leaned against the wall as the kid crossed to the counter and paused.

"Rules," she said. Reaching up, she grabbed a bottle of whiskey and a glass out of a cabinet. She poured herself a drink, then turned to face him. "If you're gonna stick around, there are gonna be some rules."

Riddick moved to one of the chairs and sat down, straddling the back of it. Kyra stayed where she was, leaning back against the counter. He waited, knowing that she would get it all out without his prompting.

"If you sleep here, you'll sleep on the couch. The bed is mine, and I don't like to share." _Liar. You want nothing more than to share your bed with him._ She took a swallow of her drink, trying to clear the traitorous thought from her mind, before she continued. "There'll be no strange women in my house," she went on. "If you're that hard up for female companionship – no pun intended – you'll need to find some place else to…" She waved her hands in a vague gesture, but Riddick got the point; he nodded. "And last," she said, staring straight into Riddick's quicksilver eyes, "if you come home shit faced and smelling like a two dollar whore ever again, you can bet your ass that you won't ever be welcomed back." Kyra tossed back the rest of her drink and set the glass on the counter. "If you can follow those rules, we'll get along just fine."

With that, she strode out of the kitchen and into the living room. Flopping down on the couch, she grabbed the remote control and turned on the television, hoping to distract herself. She flipped aimlessly through the channels, pausing here or there when something caught her interest. Then suddenly, she felt Riddick's presence in the archway. Unconsciously, she curled herself up in one corner of the sofa, leaving plenty of room for him on the other end. If he noticed the gesture, he didn't say anything; instead he simply sat down and stared at the tv.

Riddick wasn't quite sure what to make of the kid's "rules". It definitely hadn't been the blowout he'd been expecting, that was for sure. _Maybe the_ _kid finally learned to control her temper_, he thought, as Kyra started changing channels again. He knew she was lying about not wanting to sleep with him – the way she'd responded to him so eagerly last night told him that; but if she wanted him to crash on the couch, that's what he would do.

They watched television in silence for a while, each preoccupied with their own thoughts. Eventually, Kyra yawned and stood up. Stretching, she tossed the remote control in Riddick's general direction and headed down the hall. "Blankets and pillows are in the linen closet," she tossed over her shoulder, as she stepped into the bedroom. She closed the door behind her, and idly wished she'd installed a lock at some point over the past two years.

Yawning again, Kyra stripped out of her clothes, letting them fall wherever, and crawled into bed. As she pulled the blankets up over her shoulders, she breathed deeply, inhaling the scent of Riddick that still clung to the sheets. Then, with a small smile on her face, she drifted off to sleep.

After he heard the bedroom door close, Riddick turned off the television and stood. He moved silently down the hallway and paused in front of the door, listening to Kyra's slow, deep breaths. After he was satisfied that she was sleeping soundly, he grabbed a blanket and pillow from the linen closet and returned to the living room.

The couch was a little too short for him to stretch out on, but it was comfortable enough for now. Settling himself, Riddick closed his eyes and forced himself to relax. Finally, he felt himself start to doze off; just as sleep claimed him, Riddick caught a faint whiff of apples, and smiled.


	3. Author's Note IMPORTANT!

To all of you loyal Readers –

My sincerest apologies for apparently abandoning this story. For a while, I did. However, this is no longer the case. However, this sequel is currently on hiatus. The plot took some twists that require massive re-writes of the first story – including title changes on both pieces. I am currently working busily on editing and re-writing "The Things That Happen" (soon to become "How to Save a Life") so that the rest of "How to Save a Life" (soon to become "Where Were You") will make sense.

I'm sorry for all of the delays and the previous abandonment of the story. Life got in the way – pesky thing that it is. But I have a much better grip on it now, and it's safely locked back in its cage; I can finally get back to writing.

Bear with me on the changes and time, and I promise you it will be worth it.

Thanks for the patience, and sorry again.

- The Author


End file.
